Hatim's silence
by Keith Koenar
Summary: Hatim was an intriguing man, deadly, and never said a word. However, while everyone in Maysaf kept distance from 'the demon', Altair grew to like him and, maybe, even understand him. Altair/OMC, Male OC, slash, rated T for language, mention of sex, rating may go up.
1. Prologue

_This is a Altair/OMC story, so slash all the way. Since I've noticed I never get anything done, I decided upon taking another path to story-writing: drabbels. Honestly, it works much better. So every chapter will contain a few of these drabbles, but don't be confused about the timeline that may take a swerve to the right, left and back again. Anyways, any review welcomed, constructive reviews loved and enjoy the story my friends!  
_

* * *

**1. The new old**

Rumors spread that Rauf had come back with one of Altair's classmates. He had been clutching onto the older Assassin's robes when they passed the gates of Maysaf and had refused to let go, screaming frantically and kicking out in vain when others pulled him off, until he was knocked out and carried inside. From the top of the fortress, Altair had watched it all.

He should have been executed for treachery, but nothing of that sort happened. Instead, only days later, the novice stood in front of the dorms doors. He was to be one of Altair's roommates, like he had been before. The bed that had found a new occupant in the time of two months was emptied without questions for it's former owner.

No one dared to ask about the bloody and torn robes the boy had worn at his return.

It did not escape Altair when Hatim first stood in the back of the training ring again, keeping to himself in silence. Others seemed to take a bit longer to notice. Which was not really a surprise, considering Hatim was strangely mute and calm, not even speaking to Abbas, who could be considered his friend beforehand, about what had happened on his adventure. He only stood hidden among their brothers, face solemn and watching.

It was strange. Altair had recalled him different, even remembered getting into a quarry with the boy, which had ended up with Hatim's face smothered into the stones, spitting insults at Altair he had not even known of before.

"_You think you are so strong?!_", the boy had yelled, struggling to free himself from Altair's grip, "Swallow your pride, you dullard, and make sure you don't get poisoned in your sleep like the incompetent, insufferable, impotent bastard you are!" His face scrunched when Altair pushed him down harder. "_Dakhlah killah, kehbel!_* May you be struck by a shoe!"

After a while, the insults had given in to furious screams as Hatim had struggled and battled fiercer than before, an animal in a steel grip. When the older novices had separated them, Altair had seen how Hatim's face was scratched up and bloodied on one side from being pushed into the stones with too great force. To some, Hatim then looked fearsome, the dirty blood running down into his crazy eyes and down his neck to stain his uniform, flying in pink droplets with every breath he pushed out of his lungs. Altair had not feared him in any way, not when you could see the rage and the emotions clouding his good judgment. It was no sign of a good Assassin.  
But now, when Hatim attended his classes, Altair felt a shiver run down his spine. There was nothing left of the animal he had pushed into the dirt besides of the light scars he still wore. When he looked into the boy's eyes now, which turned to him when he noticed himself being watched, they were cold.

The eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

* * *

_*Push it all in, bitch!_


	2. Love, light and darkness

**2. Love**

"Do you love your duty, Hatim?"

The man's eyes turned to Altair, silent and cold as ever. When helooked away and flashed his blade in the light like a treasure made of gold he would take to the grave, Altair knew the answer.

**3. Light**

The dungeons were dark and moist, and Hatim was seated in the cellopposite to Altair. The bars and the corridor between them made it impossible to reach out and touch, talking was naturally out of the question. All they had left was the silence of their contemplation on their sins and the ray of light that wandered above Altair's head.

When, around midday, it finally hit his face, Altair leaned back and bathed in the warmth, Hatim watching him from afar. The tears sparkled in the sun. The smile shone with ivory white teeth.

All the trouble was worth it.

**4. Dark**

The guards were too chatty in his opinion, but Altair sometimes couldn't help but listen. He told himself it was because one should be aware of what occurred around the fortress, even though he was really just curious. Over and over again, guards would report of a creature haunting Maysaf and it's fortress. Some said it were the ghosts of fallen Assassins, others insisted it was a _demon_ risen from hell itself. They spread the word that it came at night, emerging from nebulous darkness. It would peel itself away from the dubious shadows and flit away before they even had the opportunity to attack.

A demon, Altair thought, amused by the idea. He was well aware it had to be something else, maybe a tale the guards told each other to keep entertained, maybe an intruder that should be disposed of. A spy perhaps. Either way, Altair now climbed the fortress at night, adapting to keep hidden in obscure corners and shadows, in search of that_ thing_. It became more of a game than anything else.

One chilly autumn night, Altair dropped into the court, seeking a way back into his cozy bed and not on his search anymore. Somehow, he started to believe the guards in Maysaf were just really bored.

The sound of a blade scraping the ground made him whip around.

He had been ready for anything but an eerie shadow standing against the wall between the obscure trees. Altair drew his own sword in defense, standing still he readied himself. And the shadow hovered forward into the moonlight, revealing Hatim with a pitch black coat wrapped over his novice robes. A small wind wafted through the torn and ragged ends of the cloth, making them reach out to the only other living thing in the court for a second. It didn't even occur to Altair to be relieved, for he saw Hatim's charcoal eyes piercing him with a bleak look, the same look the boy- almost man- seemingly always wore. With the next whisper of air, the boy whizzed around and sunk back into the obscure, scuttling up, up the wall until he reached the edge and swung into the arcane night, midnight cloth flickering out of sight.

Altair watched in silent awe, almost cursing himself for not believing the guards words. When it was dark like this, you would think of a demon fleeing into the unknown skies.


	3. Making and breaking bonds

**5. Seeking Solace**

He had asked the question a few days prior, so he had not understood why Hatim was sitting on the edge of his bed now, hands folded in contemplation. Only when he had opened his mouth for the other to see the stump of what once had been his tongue in answer, Altair briefly wondered if the scar was fresher than it should have been. Hatim shut his mouth too soon to be sure. Then he was pressing his hands together again, eyes cast downwards, void of things to say.

The secret of Hatim's silence. Now Altair knew. Only Altair.

**6. Break Away**

Abbas came running to Altair, stumbling and huffing in exhaustion, clutching at the front of his uniform, pointing towards the gates in panic while he struggled for words. Slightly disturbed, Altair noted how half the novice's face had begun to swell.

"Hatim-", Abbas choked out, "I saw Hatim leave through the front gate and I wanted to- I tried to stop him, but he just hit me! I beg you, Altair, find him before someone else does!"

That was enough for Altair to break into a full run, because if Hatim was leaving and other brothers were there before him- There would be no second mercy. It only took him a few agonizing minutes to reach the front gates of Maysaf, the guards didn't hinder him from rushing through, they knew the young prodigy, and it only took a few more before he spotted the young man's back on the dusty road. The heat rose to his head and the sweat ran down into his eyes, but he was sure that this was Hatim, Hatim with that stupid flapping coat of his, but Hatim.

"Brother!", he shouted out but received no reaction, "Hatim!"

The man on the road slowly turned around, waiting for Altair to stop before him, panting and huffing not unlike Abbas had not too long ago. Hatim only watched with a blank face as Altair regained his composure.

Altair grabbed his shoulders in a firm grip, almost begging, "Please, my brother, come back before anybody notices."

Hatim shoved him away, sending him stumbling to the ground. The dust settled and Altair spotted hard eyes fending him off. A shiver ran down his spine. There was nothing left of the man he had called a friend. This man was cold. These were the eyes of the cold-blooded killer he was challenging. The wind picked up, sending hot sand flying around Hatim's immobile body, the cloth wrapped around his shoulders trashed violently. Involuntarily, Altair thought back to that time when they had met on that clear autumn night, that time where he had discovered what the guards had called a demon.

This demon had broken away from the night and the confines of the obscure fortress.

Altair remained down as Hatim turned with the sandy wind and disappeared into the dust with a flutter of his dark coat, maybe never to be seen again.

**7. Heaven**

"Hatim? _Hatim?_" A quick exhale of the other made Altair realize he had managed to wake him up. "Do you believe in heaven?"

Hatim's eyes shot open. Altair noticed how the man that lay with him in bed knit his brows and puckered his lips, shooting him a skeptic look. The answering eyes were sincere. Considering the question futile, Hatim literally shrugged Altair off, stood up and got dressed, quickly, before that man would ask any more senseless things. He was almost out the door when Altair managed to stop him.

"Is _that_ your answer?" Altair huffed.

Instead of turning around, Hatim lift his hand and made a vague motion over his shoulder, before disappearing into the corridor.


	4. Clashing with reality

**8. Breathe Again  
**  
He found Hatim on top of the watchtower, the one you took your first leap of faith off, standing on a ledge with crossed arms and looking out on the city bathed in setting sunlight. Silently, he joined the man, balancing on the next wooden plank.

"The city is really pretty tonight," Altair offered, a twinkle in his eyes. Arms still crossed, Hatim remained unmoved. "It's in the evening that you can see her full beauty."

Silence was the only answer he got. Weird, how that didn't stop him from talking to the reclusive man, it never did. Sometimes, he still expected an answer, more than a weary look or a hand sign. Even though it was impossible.

Hatim took a deep breath, settling down with the exhale, and after a few second of looking out, closed his eyes to rest. Altair almost laughed at himself when he thought that this was maybe the first time he had seen Hatim like this. He seemed calm, seemed to have shaken off his worries to breathe freely again.

Something he hadn't done in a long time; breathe freely. He looked quite happy with that moment of peace.

**9. Smile  
**  
They were playing chess over who would top today and Altair was loosing. At first he had played it cool and kept on his pokerface, but every piece that moved and got taken away, he grew more and more frustrated. One last move, with all his might Altair hopes Hatim will make a mistake. He looks up and sees the smile on Hatim's face and he knows it.

That smile told of gleeful happiness and thriumph, of love and everything else in the world, it was there to tell him that Hatim was there and would stay, it told him to be frustrated and desperate for more, and there was this one thing it was actually meant to say.

Check mate.

**10. Questionning**

"Hey, what is your name?" Kadar asks before either Altair or his brother Malik can stop him.

Hatim only does so much but glance at them, "Hatim," Altair answers for him.

"Hmpf!" Kadar huffes but Altair thinks he has made the right choice answering for the look Hatim sends him is not treathening. "I think our brother can reply on his own." With a flash of his grin the young boy turns to the older novice and asks innocently, "Can't he?"

Hatim remains silent, watching the small face before him- because who could refuse Kadar- and softly shaking his head, bringing a firm finger to his lips to finally silence Kadar. But the boy wouldn't shut up.

"Talk to me, brother! You know your name, do you? Then tell me! What classes were you in today? Do you want to teach me? Are you as good as a fighter as my brother Malik?" the boy rambled on, "Are you good with the sword? Or better with the throwing knife? Or is Altair supposed to talk for you?"

Altair unvoluntarily flinched at the last, because he_ wasn't supposed to talk instead of Hatim_, it was an unrespectful thing to do and he wondered to himself, studying Hatim's calm face, how this man bore with him and the rest of the Brotherhood treating him like an invalid. It was incredible how Kadar rambled on, but he was nothing more but an annoying background noise now as Altair stared at Hatim, hidden in the confines of the shadow of his hood. Hatim's dark, and dark in every sense, eyes turned on him, and he was the one to stare without shame. For a second, Altair questionned the look in them.

Because it seemed there had been a flash of desire just before Hatim backhanded Kadar to shut him up.

**11. Reality**

Altair had never really thought about it until the Kadar, sitting at table with him, began babbling about the topic.

"When I'm older, I want six children with my beautiful wife!" Kadar took another bite of his bread and munched happily. "You will see, with the most beautiful woman in all Maysaf, all Syria even!"

"You seem excited, brother," one of the older men sitting at the table mocked, "Have you been spying on the girls at the well again, Kadar?"

A few laughed, Kadar pouted. "If you would see for yourself, you'd understand! One of them has the most greenest eyes, I swear!"

"The day one of these young ladies will talk to you, you can talk of marriage and children!"

Again, laughter erupted on the expense of Kadar, and the young boy hunched over trying to hide his furious blush. "Hmpf." He nudged Altair with his elbow. "One day, I swear," he hushed over his lips, "They will be jealous of my wife and six handsome kids, and the huge house I'll be sharing with my wonderful family. I'll be respected in all of Maysaf, I'll be rich enough to live easy and my sons will be the best Assassins that ever walked the earth!" Altair shot him a dubious look, cocking an eyebrow. "Except for you, of course," Kadar added quickly.

"You've got quite a plan there, brother," Malik said, having heard everything Kadar had whispered to Altair. He was seated next to him after all. "I myself would fancy a humble wife that can cook and read, and bear me one or two children. At least one boy, inshallah, so I can teach him the ways of the Brotherhood." He turned towards Altair. "What about you, novice?"

Altair was taken aback by the question, usually, Malik did not address him if it wasn't to tease or insult him. _What about him?_ Well, he would have loved to retire into a small house a day's march from the next village or city, just enough so that he would have his peace from beggars and prying eyes. So that he could live with Hatim without being disturbed or treathened or killed. If he had children or not, he didn't care. Probably not, children were a burden in his eyes, they talked too much. It would just be him, Hatim, and the silence of the surrounding landscape.

But in reality, he would never get away from the cities. In reality, he would never live with Hatim-_ how naive was that thought?_- and he would probably never get old enough to even retire. In reality, Al-Mualim will offer him a home in Maysaf and a perfect wife to carry on his legacy, he will get his children sent to the order, and he will die in battle. That was how things went most of the time.

He wanted something entirely else though, something that couldn't happen. This was the wrong place, the wrong time for him and Hatim, and what about him? He would have loved to tell the truth, but he could never. He knew Malik awaited an answer.

So he shrugged, "Haven't really thought about it."


	5. A different side

**12. Only Human**

Malik always kept an eye out for Hatim, not because he liked the man, more because he didn't trust him. That man was cold. Not like Assassins weren't trained to cope with their emotions later and finish their mission first, but Hatim was _too cold_. Almost inhuman. Malik saw it when he was in the training ring, raising his sword against yet another opponent. Hatim's sparing_ partner_- you couldn't even call it partner anymore, they were prey- could be of lower rank, of higher rank than him, it didn't matter, they would be defeated in minutes.

Malik wasn't surprised to hear that many were weary of Hatim simply because they wouldn't admit that they were actually _afraid_. Afraid of that emotionless face, those empty eyes and that fierce grip on any weapon these hands could weight. Even though Malik had the feeling Hatim could kill with his bare hands if he wanted to, quick and effective.

In short, Hatim was odd. He ate alone because no one dared to sit beside him, he never spoke to anyone, even the instructors, and he seemed to be dissapear and then appear out of nowhere, catching Malik staring _every fucking time._ Malik kept his distance, but Altair was different, dragging him closer to the man than ever before. When Hatim was there, Altair was not far, which meant Kadar was around and Malik was right next to his brother to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

And in time, Malik stopped calling him _Hatim the Demon_ behind his back like every one else did, because he then understood that Hatim had not been cold. He had been lonely.

**13. Tears**

Altair and Hatim were alone for now, having found a spot at the back entrance of the fortress, underneath a tree. Altair threw the other novice one of the apples he had nicked from the kitchen and sat down, taking a bite from his own. He peeked to his side when he noticed Hatim wasn't eating, instead staring at the round apple in his hand.

"What the matter?" he asked, "Don't you like apples?"

With a look of despair draped over his face, Hatim stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff, simply hurling the fruit away with a frustrated yell.

"Hatim are you mad!" Altair shouted, slightly hurt that his gift was treated in such ways, "Do you know how long it took me to get that god damn fruit?"

The boy at the cliff turned around, fists clenched and tears streaking down his face. It was shocking to see Hatim, out of all people, like this, fragile and hurt, and Altair couldn't help but stare. Only when he let himself fall back, Altair realized what he was about to do and sprinted forward, catching his collar just in time. He caught his breath, looking Hatim right in the teary eyes, holding him steady.

"What were you thinking? If I hadn't been there-" Altair couldn't even finish the sentence, instead he opted for an aggravated snort, "Look, Hatim,_ I know_ you are angry and hurt, and the worst is you can't talk to anybody about it, but it can't end like this! You're _better_ than this, you_ are_ one of the best! What you are not is a total coward that jumps off a cliff, and it doesn't matter if it's the easy way. It's wrong. And I won't allow it."

A choked sob escaped Hatim and a hand rose to clamp it's fingers around Altair's wrist, he was almost afraid it was there to push him off. But the boy pulled himself up and back on steady feet, immediatly hunching forward into Altair's chest, balling his fist in the front of his clothes as he sobbed without restraint. Altair let him.

Ever since that day, he had never seen Hatim cry again. Not when the master betrayed them, not when he carried his dead brothers from the battlefield, not when the place he had called home burnt down to ashes. Not one tear.

**14. Mirror**

A tired, hollow reflection stared back at him. Hatim opened his mouth, wiggling with what was left of his tongue, then closed it again. He turned around and searched for the wound on his bare back, seeing if he could touch it. He glowered down at the bleeding cut. Damn guards finally got him, how careless of him.

Let's see into what heroic tales these gossiping women would turn the event.


	6. Old friends

**39. Jealousy**

"We were more than friends, we were brothers, you and me! I recall us being that tall," Abbas motioned the height of his waist, "sticking together, living day to day like miserable little rats until we joined the order! I don't remember a day without you by my side, and now?"

Abbas heaved with his breaths, letting the question ring in his head.

_Now_ he couldn't bear a day side by side with Hatim, not a breath in his presence for it made him feel uneasy, for he wasn't graced with so much as a glance.  
_Now_ he knew he wasn't wished for, Hatim preferred to be at distance, basically pushed him away.  
_Now_ not a question he asked was worth an answer.

"Now you're with Altair."

**38. Defeat**

To be honest, Altair didn't even know how to approach the subject, or rather why. Strange enough that he didn't think about it until he faced Abbas, now it was all mangled inside his head. Was it curiosity? Perhaps, but there was a hint of something else. Fascination, even a bit of jealousy for that boy Hatim, because he seemed to flourish with strenght ever since his return, a power that exerted fear on others. Altair wanted to know his secret.  
Abbas stared at him boredly, waiting for him to speak. Without a sign of what had flitted through his mind only moments earlier, Altair wet his lip and prepared his question.

"What happened to Hatim?" it finally escaped him and he saw Abbas' face fall into a gloom.

The boy tried concentrating on his feet, yet his fist clenched. Anger and frustration could be read in his body language, as if he hated Hatim now for what he had become. A butcher, a killer at distance.

_Distance._

Suddenly everything slumped, Abbas reduced to the crushing defeat he had encountered.

"You'll have to ask him," he mumbled, the words reflecting nothing but deep sadness.

**23. Triangle**

It was the first time Hatim showed up on his own, and Altair couldn't say his timing was the best. He had just fought with Malik, so loud they had almost been afraid the Templars would find the Bureau afterwards.

"You heard it, didn't you?" Altair said softly, resting his chin on his arms.

Hatim stood behind him, silently looking out to the city of Jerusalem. He had.

"Did you know, the triangle is the most solid shape of all. I've been thinking about that a lot lately." Altair bit his lip. There was so much more he wanted to say. About Kadar, about what had happened at Salomon's temple, so much more. "Fuck!" It escaped him instead, harsh and short.

The word echoed in the empty streets and Altair curled up further in frustration. A strong hand came upon his shoulder, and the both of them stayed for a while, watching the city sleep.

They knew the frustration would pass, the sorrow would stay.


	7. Time

**15. Hours**

Hatim had the bad habit to dissapear without warning, which left Altair two choices. Either patiently wait for his return or be enough of a fool to go search the man.

It always took hours to find him, but Altair managed every time.

**16. Days.**

On some days, Altair wasn't sure if Hatim truly loved him. On some days, the man seemed to toss him aside or just leave him with no good reason, just for the sake of putting some distance between them. On some days, it all would go to shit.

On other days, Hatim loved him like there was no tomorrow.

**17. Weeks.**

The weeks passed slowly when Hatim was gone out on missions in other cities far away. Now, Altair had no choice but to wait for his lovers return, hoping that he himself would be present when he arrived. He would then occupy himself training on his own, people keeping their distance without really noticing, it seemed a natural thing to do. And Altair impatiently waited for Hatim's return.

First they would fight in the training ring and then in bed. That thought kept him occupied for weeks.

**18. Months.**

One week. Two weeks. Three weeks. A month. _Two months_. That was how long it took Altair to ask someone about where Hatim had gone to.

"Oh don't you know? Our brother Hatim has found a wife and settled down in Maysaf! She's already in her first month of pregnancy," the informant had cheered, and it had made Altair want to rip his troath out.

Every month that passed devastated him more than last. The seventh, he dared to go into the city and search for Hatim, finding his home by asking some merchants. When he entered without knocking, he was greeted by the sight of Hatim sitting in the darkest corner of the room, a bed set up with flowers on the opposite side. Altair walked over to the bed, seeing the woman's body underneath the thin blanket and knowing by instinct that it was dead.

"Safety and peace," he muttered to the corpse before leaving , not looking back at anything or anyone inside, dead or alive.

**20. Years.**

Altair was working at his desk, a candle lit to give him light, and he was trying hard to make the words readable on the paper, concentration written all over his face. There was a giggle underneath the table. He heard small shuffling sounds and a childish giggle again, and he peeked under his chair, pulling out a squirming and laughing boy. Held at arms length, the child was visibly enjoying himself, ignoring Altair's scowl.

"What the Hell are you doing here again?" Altair muttered none too friendly, "Hatim! Hatim _he's_ here again!"

Hatim came through the door and took the boy away from Altair, much to the kid's delight who squealed and laughed as if he was being tickled, hitting the Assassin on the back of his head.

"Ow!" Altair rubbed the sore spot. "I know he has a name but I can't be bothered to say it every fucking time!" Hatim hit him again. "Ow! _What the fuck-_" Hatim shot him an angry look. "_Alright_, alright, no swearing, I get it. I get it."

It took Altair years to get used to the little bugger Hatim's wife had born at her death and sometimes he doubted the man's decision to keep the boy. It took so long to name him, even longer for Altair to say it. It was just that every time he looked at Rasheed, he was reminded of that time Hatim had left him for a woman. He had not quite forgiven the man yet.

Hatim was babying the three year old boy, who giggled and tugged at his father's beard, shouting 'Baba! Baba!' over and over again. Altair studied Rasheed's small and round face.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if he's even your son. He doesn't look like you at all."

Hatim's eyes wandered from his son to Altair and he made no sign whatsoever to mock or dismiss the thought, instead he turned to bring the boy to bed. Altair was left puzzled and confused to what that was intended to meant, but he shook it off and went on with work.

It took him another few years to notice that Rasheed's eyes were oddly familiar to Al-Mualim's.


End file.
